Bressant eBook

never happened—­then is love a dangerous
companion. Gradually does the trifling spot grow
upon her; in trying to justify it, she succeeds only
in lowering the whole idea of love to its level; and
this once accomplished, in all future intercourse with
her lover she must be undefended by the shield of
her maidenly integrity. And not all men are great
enough not to presume on woman’s weakness, even
though it be that woman, to assert whose honor and
purity they would risk their lives against the world.

Some such quality of earthiness Cornelia may have
felt in the course of her acquaintance with Bressant,
preventing her love from ennobling and elevating her.
Alas! if it were so. If she cannot draw a high
inspiration from the affection which must be her loftiest
sentiment, what shall be her safeguard, and who her
champion?

In the course of ten days or a fortnight, Aunt Margaret
announced that the condition of her head would admit
of traveling, and the long-expected tour began.
But the more important consequences of Cornelia’s
fashionable experiences had already taken place.

CHAPTER XVII.

SOPHIE’S CONFESSION.

Sophie did not stay long in the invalid’s room
after the awakening they had undergone with respect
to one another. She went instinctively to her
father’s study, and, entering the open door,
kissed the old man ere he was well aware of her presence.
He took her affectionately upon his knee, and hugged
her up to him with homely tenderness.

“My precious little daughter!” quoth he;
“what would your old father do without you?”

“Am I so much to you, papa?” asked she,
with her cheek resting upon his shoulder.

“Very much—­very much, Sophie:
too much, perhaps; for I don’t see how I could
bear to lose you.”

“Do you mean to have me die, papa?”

“How is your sick boy getting along?”
returned the professor, clearing his throat, and not
seeming to hear his daughter’s words.

Sophie caught a breath, and paled a little at the
thought of the news she had to tell about the sick
boy. Her father had just told her she was precious
to him, and she felt that to be married might involve
a separation virtually as complete as that of death,
and perhaps harder to bear. But, again, she needed
his sympathy and approval: and, sooner or later,
he must hear the truth. She was not, perhaps,
aware that etiquette should have closed her lips upon
the subject until after Bressant had spoken to the
professor; at all events, she had no intention of
delegating or postponing her confidence.

“He seemed quite well when I left him.
I have been having a—­talk with him, papa.”

“He begins to show the effects of being talked
to by you, my dear. You’re a wise little
woman in some ways, that’s certain! and have
done him good in more ways than one,” said papa,
with parental complacency.